


Askbox Fic Collection 6

by Maybethings



Series: May Be Promptin' [60]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Drabble, F/F, F/M, Foreign Language, Gen, Language Barrier, Prompt Fic, Sleepwriting, conlang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybethings/pseuds/Maybethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sixth round of askbox fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shale, Warden, crows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Serindrana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serindrana/gifts), [Cherith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherith/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for Negacrow.

How the crows survive up on Soldier’s Peak, Shale doesn’t know, but they do—and they hop through the snow after her, their little beady eyes eager and shining. “Maybe it’s the fire crystals,” muses the Warden. “Try these.” The crows don’t stop hounding her—but the further cold radiating off the ice crystals makes them keep their distance, and perhaps her almost tangible urge to crush them into a pie does too.


	2. Athenril/Bethany, winter warmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for Serindrana.

It never snows in Kirkwall—it simply slushes, great damp grey drifts building up in old corners, and a miserable damp wind blowing through everything. It’s on one of those winter mornings that Bethany wakes up to poke the coals in the apprentices’ fireplace—and finds it done for her already, the fire a roar of warmth and light, and a soft package curled like a kitten on the floor. Inside is a piece of candied fruit, a pair of thick wool socks, and a note: “Stay warm. It’s cold outside. -A”


	3. Anders/Hawke, writing in your sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for Middlemarching.

Sometimes Anders falls asleep when he’s writing. On the nights where Justice-or-something-like-that muscles its way to the front, his words become sharper, more pointed, more poisoned. On the nights when he lays quiet, however…

Hawke sometimes finds a page that is covered in a soft, boyish scrawl, and words in a language he’s never seen before. Anders sees them, goes red, and refuses to translate them. But he clutches them to his heart in a particular furtive way, and Hawke tries to understand.


	4. Sten, Mabari, after the battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for Capsizedatsea.

It is quiet in camp after the darkspawn attack—an uneasy calm stretched thin and ready to break at the slightest stimulus. Sten sits polishing Asala quietly, and the Warden’s mabari pads up, resting its head gently on his thigh. “Woof,” he huffs mournfully. “We are of one mind,” says Sten, and reaches out to scratch behind the hound’s ears.


	5. Zevran, f!Brosca, naming weapons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Askbox fic for Cherith.

"Sten's sword is Asala, and Starfang is Starfang. Did you name your daggers, Zevran?" Natia asks as she fixes the leather straps on her armour.

"I have so many, little Warden!" he exclaims. "And they all have names. Like this little one here." He draws a thin, vicious little blade from against his skin somewhere. "His name is Inquisition."

"Inqui—what? Why?" 

"Because," Zevran says with a quick flash of teeth, "nobody expects the Antivan Inquisition." The Warden just groans.


End file.
